How To Steal A Highlander

by Olivia Norem

  She draped one arm around his neck and twined her fingers in his hair. “A girl could get used to this.”

  “Ye honor me, lass.” His eyes sparkled with a devilish gleam. “Me apologies I dinnae wait tae eat with ye. I wished tae break bread with yer brother. Mon tae mon. Tae spare ye any harsh words and smooth over his concerns.” At Kat’s puzzled expression he whispered, “Considerin’ we’re no’ wed.”

  “You’re forgiven,” Kat smiled. She smothered the urge to burst into laughter, reminding herself Simeon was from another century. He was dressed in modern jeans and a sweater — and looking thoroughly sexy in them — but his old fashioned sense of chivalry was… refreshing.

  She had woken up with this magnificent man, and Kat never stayed with anyone long enough to wake up with them. It was simply too intimate. Too risky. Although their circumstances were what they were, there was some unnamable thing about him that drove her well past caution.

  Logic dictated that Simeon would not and could not be part of her life. And despite everything they still needed to figure out, right now the heat radiating from Simeon’s body was fueling all sorts of fantasies. That spell was suddenly broken by Ian clearing his throat.

  “Sit. Eat before it gets cold.” Ian set a plate on the table with one hand and waved her over with a spatula in the other.

  Well, wasn’t he just full of surprises? Kat expected a strong lecture, even the potential of another brawl with Simeon, but this? Ian cooked breakfast?

  Simeon held her chair as her eyes went wide. Ian, who could burn water if he attempted to boil it, had served a picture-perfect omelet.

  “The last thing I expected from you this morning was a four-star breakfast.” Kat suspiciously slid into the chair.

  Ian straightened, indignant. “Five-star, Kat. I learned how to make these from the sous chef at the Savoy.”

  Kat toyed with her fork and eyed her brother suspiciously. “Distracting yourself by learning how to cook? Okay, spill it, Ian.”

  “Eat first.”

  Kat rolled her eyes and groaned. She wasn’t fooled a bit by his demeanor; it was the omelet that threw her off balance.

  “Its bad news, isn’t it?” Kat kept her gaze focused on her brother.

  “It’s not good.” Ian’s eyebrows practically disappeared into his hairline.

  Kat sipped her orange juice and waited as Ian sat back in his chair and folded his arms behind his head. He shifted uncomfortably at the two pairs of expectant eyes meeting him across the table.

  “I fucked up.”

  “I’ll say you did. Taking Simeon out to a pub, and then getting so stinking drunk you couldn’t have helped him if you needed to—”

  “’Twas nae harm, lass.” Simeon shrugged beneath Kat’s heated glare.

  Ian tipped his chair backward and balanced on two legs as he studied the ceiling. “I guess being a gentlemen in the quiet English countryside wasn’t exactly what I wanted. I miss the life. And… well…” Ian trailed off, hesitant to finish.

  “Well?” Kat prompted.

  Ian righted his chair to the floor and looked at her earnestly. “I kind of never left it.”

  “I knew it! Colin owes me a C-note.” Kat slapped her palm on the table and smiled victoriously. Yet she sensed her brother was hedging some important point. Ian may have kept his secrets from Colin, but he had never been immune to taking Kat into his closest confidence. Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. “And…”

  Ian puffed his cheeks and blew out a breath. “And I, ah… also may have shown Elena the Goya we lifted two years ago.”

  “Ian!” Kat’s fork clattered noisily on her untouched plate. “You? Of all people… you? And what happened to rule number one? Rule number one?”

  Of the three Goldman children, Ian had been the self-proclaimed enforcer of their rules. And he took the liberty, on many occasions, to remind his siblings that he’d never violated a single one.

  “Hey, I’m not the one babysitting a four-hundred-year-old man who knows what I do for a living. No offense, Simeon,” Ian nodded.

  “None taken, Ian Goldman.” Simeon saluted Ian with his coffee.

  Kat’s face reddened. “Don’t you turn this on me, Ian. As if I had a choice with this… his situation. No offense, Simeon.”

  “Nae tae fash yersel over, Katherine.” Simeon bit his lower lip to keep from laughing aloud. He had no idea what a Goya was, but he retreated from the table and sat in front of the silver “computer” Ian had shown him yesterday. It appeared it was best to leave brother and sister to their discussion.

  “How much heat is on you?” Kat demanded.

  “Seems there’s some Interpol detectives who want to talk to me. I can’t go home right now, and I can’t go to America either.”

  “Oh, Ian. And you came here? Knowing the job I’m doing?”

  “Hey. I got your distress call. And Colin ran point for my travel, of course.”

  “Colin? He should have come. Not you.”

  “That would have added ten to twelve hours to reach you. I was closer.”

  “But—”

  “You’re our sister, Katherine,” Ian interrupted and leveled her with a hard look.

  “Col would put you at risk just to prove he’s above reproach from his little command center. And you came just to prove you could avoid getting caught.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “This is supposed to be simple. You just brought a plethora of potential heat neither one of us needs. And stay out of public. Both of you.” Kat glared at them.

  “Are you done stating the obvious? Besides, what are you thinking? He can’t stay here. No offense, Simeon.”

  Simeon waved off the comment with a smile of reassurance.

  “He is here, Ian,” Kat gritted.

  “And what are you planning to do? Take him back to Boston to play house?”

  “I haven’t thought that far ahead.”

  “No? Well I have. And Simeon isn’t the only problem we’re facing… well, I’m facing, anyway.” Ian’s face fell as he glanced at his shoes.

  “Wonderful.” Kat cocked her head to the side sarcastically. “What more missteps can we heap on this situation?

  The sound of Simeon’s fingers flying over the keyboard was more than a little distracting. Kat tried to concentrate on what Ian was saying, but finally gave up.

  “What are you doing?” She whipped around in her chair.

  Simeon raised his head from the screen. “I believe ye call it googlin’, lass. Though I find this word verra funny. Googlin’.” His shoulders shook with silent laughter.

  Despite the argument she was having with her brother, Kat couldn’t suppress a smile hearing the Highlander’s sexy brogue. “And you can type? Just like that?”

  “’Twas nae difficult whence I studied the patterns.” The clackety-clack sound continued.

  Kat rolled her eyes in disbelief and gave her brother a sardonic look.

  “So I might have shown him the internet.” Ian smiled innocently and reached for his coffee. “Who knew a seventeenth-century laird would take to it faster than a six-year old with an iPhone? But back to Elena.”

  “What about her?”

  “She gone,” Ian said softly.

  “Gone?” Kat choked on her eggs. “Like kidnapped gone?”

  “No. That would have been easier. That I know how to fix,” Ian smiled sadly. “She left me.”

  Kat sat back, too stunned to speak. Her brother had given up everything he knew for Elena, and Kat was certain she’d never seen anyone as in love as Ian was with his wife.

  “What happened?”

  “She didn’t take the news well of what I really do for a living. And now it seems Elena is out for blood in this divorce. She’s threatening to expose everything.”

  “How much is everything?”

  “Enough to get Murray pinched. You and Col are safe, however.”

  “No, we’re not. Murray will sell us out faster than you can spit if he ha
s to save his own ass.” Kat buried her face in her hands. “Well this is a mess. This makes us kind of stuck. Here. In Scotland.”

  Simeon ached to inquire who this “Murray” was, but he held his tongue.

  Ian rubbed her shoulders encouragingly. “Let’s deal with our more obvious problems first, Kitty Kat. I’ll figure something out with Elena.”

  Simeon blew out a frustrated breath. He, of all people, knew it was not a good practice to discount a scorned woman.

  “Obvious problems,” Kat drawled and rested her forehead on the table. The only sounds in the room were Simeon’s oddly proficient keyboard strokes and the ding of Ian’s spoon as he stirred more sugar into his coffee.

  “Now it’s your turn.”

  “My turn?” Kat raised her head from her arms. Ian took a wizened sip and pitched his body forward. Oh, that was bad. He’d drawn a bead on her like a hungry prosecutor.

  “What aren’t you telling me, Kat?”

  “What do you mean?”

  Ian ticked off the reasons on his fingers. “You came home a day early, which breaks protocol. You phoned me. Twice. And despite the fact you spent a night of impassioned lovemaking with the Laird here, you’re awfully tense. Now don’t hedge. Talk.”

  And there it was. No one had powers of observation like her brother. Kat debated whether she should blurt out what spooked her in Geneva, but given Ian’s information, if she didn’t tell them about that mysterious woman, they could all be compromised.

  “I’m certain I was followed in Geneva.”

  “Followed? By who?” Ian straightened.

  The keyboard silenced.

  “Ye had problems, lass? Ye mentioned naught tae me.” Simeon slipped from his chair and crossed the room to her side.

  “A woman. She wasn’t the typical law enforcement type, she was like, classy. Old money classy.”

  An icy weight of alarm doused him as if he’d tumbled headfirst into Loch Awe. Simeon prayed it wasn’t the witch, and at the same time, he knew it was.

  “That doesn’t make any sense,” Ian mused. His mind shuffled through the images he perused in the antiquated book, and from the bits he’d pieced together of Simeon’s story, suddenly an ex-wife and the police were the least of their worries. Ian crossed to the far table and thumbed through the pages as he listened to Kat recall the events.

  “Katherine, lass. Did anythin’ unusual happen?” Simeon prodded.

  “Well, yes. I was in a café when I saw her across the street. My bag dropped, and my mirror broke. Then she spoke to me.”

  “Whot did she say?” Simeon’s jaw tightened. Ian’s eyes narrowed in suspicion.

  “She told me to be careful with my things.”

  “Did she look anything like this?” Ian placed the book in front of her. The faded sketch showed a woman in profile, a mirror in one hand standing in front of a stone table with a box. Tiny haloed hash marks suggested the box was shining with some sort of magic. The writing on the page appeared to be ancient and wasn’t a language Kat recognized.

  “It could be, but that sure looks like your mirror, Simeon.”

  “It was her. Isobel,” Simeon said flatly as he studied the page. “Though whot she’s doin’ here, I cannae imagine. And how she found ye, Katherine…”

  Simeon and Ian exchanged worried glances.

  “If it is your witch, Simeon, she’s in Switzerland right now. That gives us some time, but not much. Show me the mirror, Kat.”

  When Kat left the room to retrieve her bag with the mirror, Simeon waved a hand at the computer. “This… whot did ye call it, Ian? Technology? ’Tis a wondrous thing. I believe I’ve found somethin’ ye may hae overlooked.” Simeon spun the computer around.

  Scanning the wiki sight, Ian blinked in confusion.

  “I don’t understand. Samhain? All Hallows Eve, correct? What does that have to do with anything right now?”

  “Och, Ian Goldman. ‘Tis me way home.”

  Ian raised a single finger to give him pause. “Table that thought for a moment.”

  “This Isobel. She’s not exactly a witch. From my research, and what I can glean from this book, she’s Fomorian.”

  “Fomorian?” Simeon frowned.

  “What the heck is a Fomorian? I’ve never heard that word.” Kat set the bag on the table and stepped away. “Go ahead, Ian, and take a look. Don’t touch it, just look at it.”

  Ian continued as he pulled out the bulky bundle. “According to legend, the Fomorians are the counterpart of the Tuath Dé, or fairies, in Celtic legend. They take their power from natural elements.”

  “Fae legend is well-known,” Simeon nodded. He could believe what Ian had said considering a memory ticked in his mind. Isobel had been insulted when he accused her of being fae all those years ago.

  “Formorians are personifications of chaos, darkness, death, drought… you know, the usual evil stuff…” Ian unfolded the bulky layers of cloth. He let loose a low whistle as the mirror was revealed. Tendrils of blue light rippled along the surfaces of the markings on the frame. “Wow. That is something.”

  “’Tis an instrument of magic at its most evil. Like the witch, it needs tae be destroyed.”

  “Not necessarily.” Ian tapped a thoughtful finger against his chin.

  “What are talking about Ian? That thing burned me. And it imprisoned Simeon for what? Four hundred years,” Kat huffed.

  “No. That Fomorian witch Isobel is evil. The mirror is simply, like you said, Simeon, an instrument. Put into the wrong hands any magic can be abused.”

  “Ian. Since when do you believe in magic?” Kat’s hands went to her hips.

  “Gee, Kat. Considering we’re with a man from four centuries ago and a magic mirror, I think I can accept a few things on faith.”

  “Stop being a sarcastic ass,” Kat sneered.

  “Stop questioning my expertise.”

  “Expertise? You conceited, self-important, pompous, narcissistic—”

  “Eno’.” Simeon declared with all the authority of a seventeenth-century laird. “The pair of ye need tae cease. We need a solution,” he looked pointedly at Ian, and then glowered at Kat, “no’ opinion.” Simeon spread his palms on the tabletop and surveyed the book like a general strategizing over a battle plan.

  “The facts are these. According tae this book, Isobel’s source o’ power is this.” He pointed to the glowing box, and then turned the page, revealing what looked like a giant diamond floating amid a sword and more curious drawings and inscriptions. “I’ve seen this stone. Isobel used it the day she consigned me tae that mirror. And this. ‘Tis the sword that can destroy the source o’ her magic.”

  “Okay. So, we get the sword and slice up the stone. No more witch and everyone’s happy.” Ian brushed his hands together dismissively.

  “Sure, Ian. Like it’s going to be that simple?” Kat gave her brother a saccharine grin.

  “Actually it isn’t,” Ian drawled and peered closer at the drawing. “Do you… wait. Look at this. Is this sword what I think it is?”

  Kat crowded closer to Ian as she studied the sketch.

  “It can’t be,” Kat breathed in awe. Simeon ignored their exchange and scrubbed a frustrated hand over his jaw.

  “I ken o’ such a weapon.”

  “This doesn’t exist.” Ian was adamant in his declaration.

  “Mayhap no’ in yer time, Ian Goldman. But in mine I ken where this sword is kept. And perchance, I ken the place where the stone may be as well.”

  “Yet if Isobel is here, destroying the stone in another time…” Kat mused.

  “She’d cease to exist in any century. So, the only solution would be to travel back to your time and destroy it from the source?” Ian offered.

  “We’re talking time travel. Like that’s even possible,” Kat snorted.

  The air turned thick and heavy as the full import of their discovery settled among them. Kat looked straight at Simeon without blinking.

  Simeon arched a brow. �
�There is a place reported tae be able tae accomplish such things. And whot I showed ye earlier, Ian. Samhain celebration begins on the morrow. ‘Tis improbable, aye, but nae impossible.”

  “Actually, I may have the solution to the time travel thing.” Ian flipped through the pages until he found what the place he remembered. “This book that are pretty specific on the topic. Just after sunset on Samhain seems to be an optimum time, if my Latin is correct. Something about a cairn and arranging pebbles for a date...”

  “’Tis nae yer battle, Ian Goldman. Nor yers, lass. I’ll accept yer assistance tae gae back tae me time, but when I gae, I gae alone.”

  Silence floated in the room — suffocating silence — and Kat was the first to break it. Her words tumbled forth with accelerating emotion that speared his heart.

  “No, Simeon. You don’t get to leave. Not without us. Leave without me? Not a chance. Let’s assume this whole time travel thing can work, which I doubt. Have you considered that this… this Isobel woman is not going to let you just waltz into her lair and take her diamond? You need Ian’s expertise and you need mine. You need a thief.”

  “I need tae draw the witch’s attention away from ye, Katherine, and destroy her whence and for all. I cannae keep ye safe here.”

  “Do you realize what you’re saying?” Kat’s voice escalated to a shrill.

  “Do ye?” Simeon bellowed at the crossroads of frustration

  “I’m in love with you.” Kat all but screamed the words in her rage.

  “And I’m in love with ye as well,” Simeon thundered.

  The room fell silent. All three of them gaped in astonishment. Ian cleared his throat uncomfortably and broke the quiet with a mollifying tone.

  “All right, children. I suggest a compromise here. In the spirit of newfound love, as well as saving my ass, we all go. We try this thing together.”

  Simeon’s eyes locked on Kat’s. He wanted nothing more than to pull her in his arms and declare he’d gladly accept one more day with her than to spend a lifetime without. But this was neither the place nor the time for such intimacies, and he would never be that selfish. Of everything he’d suffered, seeing the currents of emotion wash over her face was almost his undoing. Best to have Katherine safe and heartbroken in her own time, surrounded by her conveniences, than to risk stranding her alone and in his.